Around the Triskelion She Goes
by S. Apollymi
Summary: "Fate has terrible power. You cannot escape it by wealth or war. No fort will keep it out, no ship will outrun it." —Sophocles. She knew her fate from the moment she heard her name. She's the catalyst. She's the trigger. She's the matchstick waiting to set things aflame. SI/OC
1. Be Brave

_—Krasikeva, I'm Paige "Evaine" Kraiskeva._ The dark umber-haired teenager repeated the mantra mentally, taking deep breaths as her glassy, amber-brown eyes gazed at the empty music stand, mindful of the violin resting across her lap. She sighed, wondering if she'll ever come to terms with her identity crisis. It's not like she can talk to her parents, or _anyone_ about this without sounding crazy.

Maybe Deaton might know what to do, but that would mean revealing herself to the supernatural world, especially the Hale Pack. Plus, he's one cryptic bastard.

How does one approach the topic of reincarnation? How does one go about their life, carrying the pangs and aches that came hand-in-hand with the memories of their previous life, her as _Evangeline Carter_? She swallowed back the frog in her throat.

For 15 years, her mind tore itself apart trying to decide whether she was Paige Krasikeva or Evangeline Carter. Always too mature, lost in melancholy, too advance. Always uncertain of whom exactly is in control. Evangeline had heard of Paige Krasikeva. Evangeline _knew_ Paige Krasikeva's fate. She was the _catalyst_. The girl who lit the match, setting events into motion. The girl, who was also a fictional character, supposed that was why she chose to learn the violin instead of the cello. Maybe that's why she went by Evaine rather than simply Paige. Because she wasn't just Page Krasikeva, Evangeline Carter lingered in her soul.

Going to bed one night, expecting to wake up to her alarm clock ringing its bells off for her morning lecture or her phone ringing — Mum making sure she's awake — only to find herself screaming, and drenched in amniotic fluid. How cruel of life to let her die at 19, in her sleep, unnoticed, alone and so far away from home?

God, her — _Evangeline_ 's Mum must've thought she just overslept. How long before she realized something was wrong? Would her roommates have noticed her absence? How long before Mum finally decided to check in on her, only to find a corpse—

 _Fuck_. Evaine bit down hard on her lip. _'Calm down Evaine, having a panic attack at school won't do you any good,'_ she chided herself.

Taking a long deep breath, she shoved all her anxieties aside. Evaine sent the metronome ticking. Straight back, shoulders relaxed, her body eased back into a familiar stance. She rested the maple violin on her collarbone and shoulder. The dark umber-haired teenager gently leaned her head into the chin rest and drew the first note. Rosin-waxed horsehair sung beautifully against the catguts. Her eyes vanished behind her eyelids as she let her fingers dance across the fingerboard.

 _Thud. Tick. Thud. Tick. Thud._

Amber-brown eyes snapped open, gasping. The metronome continued to tick away accompanied by the arrhythmic thud. She glanced over at the double doors. Biting down on her lip, she turned back to the empty music stand and continued playing, her hands trembling as she drew her bow across the strings. Evaine gulped, her features shadowed in pain each time the ball thumped against the vinyl floor.

Tentatively, she made her way towards the door, but dare not open it. _What if I just ignore it? What if I just stay here until they leave?_ Evaine wondered.

 _Then you'll be interfering with the timelines._

 _There's a chance that all the things that happened in Beacon Hill won't happen_ Evaine argued

 _Murphy's Law. Whatever can happen, will happen. Nothing good comes out of those who try to change their fate. Oedipus Rex._

 _Who's to say that he'll fall in love with me anyway? I'm not Paige. I'm **nothing** like Paige._

 _Who's to say that he won't?_

Evaine growled at the voice in her head.

 _Who's to say, you wouldn't survive the bite?_

A beat. A moment. Laughter and a few more bounce of the ball banging against the floor and locker, steel slipped into those amber-brown eyes.

* * *

"What you going to do?" His friend said, dribbling the ball just out of his reach. Derek laughed, crouched and ready to tackle it away when a scent caught his attention. _Honeysuckle, Lotus, and rain._

"Hey, do you guys mind?"

Frowning, he turned around. She was gorgeous, with dark chocolate hair that tumbled down in waves, a delicate paleness highlighted by her gray-burgundy top and gray jeans. She stood there, pointing her bow at them with dark amber-brown eyes eying each one of them in annoyance. "I'm trying to practice here."

His friends jeered at her with their 'oos.' A cocky smirk lifted the corners of Derek's mouth. He clutched onto the ball in-between his hands, "How do you know we're not trying to practice here too?

She quirked a brow and snorted. "You see, I was practicing in the music room," she pointed with her bow, "and I'm pretty sure that basketball practice takes place in the gym." Swinging her bow expertly, she pointed in the general direction of the gym.

"Well, I'm pretty sure basketball practice takes place anywhere you got a basketball." He stated, this made his friends laugh. Assured, he dribbled towards her. She rolled her eyes and tightened her grip on her bow. He could practically smell the frustration and annoyance coming off from her. "See?"

Shaking her head, irked, she turned around to head back to the music room. Derek panicked for a moment and called out, "Wait. Hold on, hold on."

She stopped but doesn't turn around. "If you can get the ball from me… maybe I'll stop." He proposed.

A beat. The brunette spun on her heel, suspicion gleaming in her eyes.

"Come on." He encouraged, bouncing the ball at a slow pace. "It'll be easy."

Eyes never leaving his, she moved to snatch the ball, but not quick enough thanks to his enhanced reflexes.

"Oops." It was a little unfair, but she looked so adorable, he couldn't help it.

He dribbled again, she tried and failed again; she bit her bottom lip. Derek dribbled around her, then between his legs. After a few moments, she walked away, returning to the music room. His friends chuckled at her pathetic attempts and turned to leave.

He watched her go, wondering if he had gone too far. His friends began to leave, all eager to head home.

"Come on lover boy."

He ignored him, eyes still on the doors of the music room.

* * *

Evaine picked up her violin from the chair and resumed playing. Her heart thrumming away as hard as a hummingbird's. The adrenaline from their encounter left her hands and feet blue and trembling, but they remained steady as her fingers dart across the strings and confidently played.

She's done her part, now it's down to him. Maybe she got lucky and he—

"Sorry about that."

She froze, midway through a note. She glanced out of the corner of her eye, refusing to give him his full attention. Humming her indifference, she closed her eyes to continue playing.

The amber-brown eyed girl barely got a note in before he implored, "Hey, what's your name?"

Evaine took her violin away from her collar, holding onto it by the neck, limply by her side, "I'm trying to practice," she reminded him, rolling her neck and shoulders, getting the creeks out, "if you didn't notice."

"Okay." He closed the distance between them, "I'll leave you alone, then…" Evaine relief was brief, vanished as quickly as it rose, "after you tell me your name."

Frustrated, she shot him look that unquestionably said: 'are you kidding me?' He smiled, with the right corner of his lips curled upwards.

She lets out a deep breath. "Alright, I'll tell you my name, _if_ you can play one instrument in this room." Evaine gestured with her bow.

"One?"

"Just one." She stated.

"Any one of them?"

She quirked a brow.

Derek walked over to the rack, looking a little nervous at the sight of all the instruments. Evaine sat down on the chair, resting her violin on her lap and bow on her shoulders, waiting for him to pick an instrument.

After a moment of consideration, he picked one but hid it behind his back. She let her head lull to the right as he approached. Standing in front of her, he pulled out a triangle and struck a note.

"Damn." She cursed, should've remembered that it was a triangle."My name is Paige, but I go by Evaine." She stood up and places the violin back on her collarbone, "Now, please make yourself scarce, I have to practice." She had hoped he'd just leave, but lucky simply wasn't on her side today.

"My name is—"

"I know who you are," Evaine commented, looking into his eyes. Hazel meeting amber-brown.

He smirked, brows raised cockily as he turned to finally leave.

Evaine didn't realize she was holding her breath until those double doors swung shut.


	2. Stalking

And thus, Derek's stalking days began. Not as subtle as his future self will be, but then again Evaine was expecting it. Realizing that they share a handful of classes, he had taken to either sitting behind or next to her, moving away from his friends with a shrug and cheeky smirk. So far, she ignored his persisting presence and efforts.

Thankfully, he restricted himself to follow her at school, although who was to say that he doesn't follow her after school too? There must be some heightened werewolf perks he used to his advantage.

The dark umber-haired teenager was having lunch in the cafeteria, sitting underneath the glare of the sun, and enjoying the warmth it radiated while reading _The Bloody Chamber._ Appropriate, considering. Halfway through _The Company of Wolves_ , Derek and his group of misfits tumbled through those double doors accompanied by the thuds of basketballs. Rolling her eyes, she took a sip of cola and continued reading, wondering what he'd do next.

* * *

Derek wanted to bash his head against the wall, desperately. But then he'd had to explain the cracks left behind from his attempts at regaining his sanity. Ever since he met violin girl — _Evaine_ — his wolf was at an all time mellow.

Even his Uncle Peter called him out on it.

* * *

 _"_ _Violin Girl has you on a leash, and she doesn't even know it." Peter chuckled, shaking his head._

 _"_ _Evaine, her name is Evaine." Derek grumbled._

 _"_ _See!" He cried, "Oh my god, you're behaving like a_ puppy."

 _"Shut up." The young wolf shot his uncle a piercing glare, but Peter threw his head back and laugh, his entire body quaking._

 _"An adorable little pup. I see a Labrador." Derek continued to protest against Peter's jest, but he pushed on, "wagging his adorable little tail, pouting with those big wolfie eyes of yours begging for attention—"_

 _"_ _Shut up Uncle Peter!" He growled, eyes flashing amber before vanishing with a blink._

 _Peter quirked a brow, "Come on, you know I'm only kidding." He smiled, "I think it's about time someone caught your attention..." he trailed off, brows furrowing as he turned to his nephew. He gave him the one over with a critical eye._

 _"What?" Derek's eyes narrowed at his Uncle's inquisitive glint._

 _"There's something different about you."_

 _Derek frowned, "Different? What?"_

 _The older werewolf hummed, "I don't know." Derek saw something flicker in Peter's eyes before he gave him a shrug, "Never mind, probably nothing."_

* * *

Evaine let out an exasperated groan. "I give you my name, and now you're stalking me?" Shifting her satchel and violin case, she threw a glare over her shoulder.

"Who says I'm stalking you?" He said, false innocence and cockiness. Derek gave her a one-shoulder shrug as he bounced the ball.

She scoffed, "Says me." Pursing her lips, she closed the gap between them and not so gently shoved her violin into his chest. Caught off guard, he stumbled back a step. "What would you call following me twenty paces back, moving closer to my seat in class and sitting outside the music room?"

A flash of surprise crossed his face but was instantly replaced as the corner of his lip curled up into that infamous smirk of his. It reminded her of Peter's devious looking smirk. _Thank god_ she didn't have to deal with him. "Being a friendly classmate?"

"Stalking means to harass or persecute with unwanted and obsessive attention." She recited, eyes never leaving his. "Or, to pursue or approach _stealthily_ , which you _failed_ , by the way."

Derek hazel-green eyes widen in surprised, "H-How? W-What?"

With a smug grin, beaming across her face, she turned on her heel and walk away. "Work harder on being more stealthy Hale, I saw you coming miles away."


	3. Honeysuckle, Lotus, and Rain

AN: Thank you to:

Arianna Le Fey, DitzyDeity, HeartlessNobdy13, PonyPickle, Vixter9339, Anmak, night-phoenix546, I Growl For Fun, JolieNoir96, Ismatyca, rosniam3, Millenia-the-wings-of-valmar, Shaka-laka-BOOM-girl, dogsrulz77, suntan140, bridgetlynn, Kohanita, ApolloGreek27, DarkDust27, Lilyargent, The All Powerful Genie, WeAreTheHearts

for the follows and favorites.

JolieNoir96: Well I hope I live you to your expectations :)  
Guest: I've pretty much has this story planned out so I'll try my best to see this through ^^"  
I Growl For Fun: I hope you enjoy this chapter!  
DarkDust27: You'll have to stick around and see if she does, it's all up in the air at the moment

* * *

Derek slumped down into the kitchen stool, and start banging his head on the island tabletop. "I — _thud_ — am — _thud_ —an — _thud_ — idiot." He groaned with each thud.

" _Woah_! Hey, take it easy on the marble Derek."

Forehead on the table, the basketball player glanced out of the corner of his eye. There was his mother, leaning against the doorway with a bemused grin on her lips.

Talia Hale. His mother. The Alpha Female of the biggest pack on the Western Coast, the Hale Pack. She was exceptionally powerful, able to fully shapeshift, which was rare ability amongst the supernatural world. Well-respected and trusted, she became the leader, someone the packs went to for advice and guidance, keeping the peace that resided over Beacon Hills for centuries.

Her son moaned and continued to hit his head, grumbling underneath his breath.

"Derek is brooding over _Violin Girl_." Laura snickered, entering the kitchen and tossing her backpack onto the other tabletop.

" _No I'm not_!" He protested, shooting his sister a venomous glare.

Talia's brown eyes flickered between her son and daughter. "Oh? And who is this _'violin girl'_?" She walked over to Derek and rests her elbows on the island tabletop. "Why haven't I heard of her?"

"Because she's a girl he's stalking at school," Peter answered, smirking into his can of soda.

"Shut up Peter—"

" _Language_!" Talia interrupted, before her brother and son got into a fight. Too many hormonal-testosterone fuelled teenagers in this Pack House. Hopefully, Laura will know how to wrangle these mischievous wolves when her time comes.

The Alpha female frowned at her younger brother, "Peter, you should know better by now." Peter visibly flinched at his sister and Alpha's disappointment. He shot her a sheepish smile. Rolling her eyes, she returned her attention back to her son, whose forehead seemed glued to the marble, but she spotted the redness in the tip of his ears. She didn't need her enhanced sense of smell to see that he was a little embarrassed.

"Now Derek," she began, keeping her voice calm and steady, "Explain this to me. Use your words: why are you stalking her?"

He grumbled under his breath, his response inaudible, even to werewolves' ears.

"What was that sweetie?" She leaned closer.

Whimpering quietly, he lifted up his head but look her in the eyes. "Because she smells nice."

Talia's eyes widen as large as saucers, a little baffled. "Her scent? What does she smell like to you?"

Derek hummed ecstatically, eyes fluttering shut; he took a long, deep breath as he remembered her scent. "Honeysuckles, Lotus, and rain."

"Honeysuckle, really?" Laura asked, brown eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"How did you know it was honeysuckle? You know some people can't smell honeysuckle." Peter commented.

A beat. "I don't really know. Just knew it was honeysuckle." He admitted.

Talia wondered too; you can find out a lot about someone by their scent. Chemoreceptors are essential for supernatural creatures, helping them interpret emotions and uncover truths from lies.

Honeysuckle is a rare scent for a human to possess _naturally_. The Alpha remembered her talks with Alan Deaton, their emissary, regarding herbs and flowers. Honeysuckle meant _"united in love"_ in the _Language of Flowers_ , it is also the embodiment of a love that is full of happiness, intensity and passionate as well as undying. To the Druids, it's a vow to diligently remain true to one's path as well as the sweetness of life. All in all, a positive omen, but Talia didn't become the leader of the West Coast by being superficial. She knew her mythology and folklore. Every story heard should be taken with a pinch of salt; she recalled that honeysuckle also represented the ill-fated lovers: Tristan and Isolde.

On the other hand, lotus flowers are commonly associated with the Egyptians, Buddhism, and Hinduism. With strong associations with purity, spiritual awakenings and faithfulness, the Buddhists consider the flower as a sign of spiritual enlightenment in the wake of rebirth. Although those monks were extensive in uncovering what the different color lotuses meant. The Egyptians, similarly, believed that they were a symbolization of rebirth and death. It was rumored that in _The Book of the Dead_ , spells, and incantations speak of transforming one into a lotus, thus allowing resurrection. However, the Hindus associated it with beauty, fertility, prosperity, spirituality, and eternity. Emerging unspoiled and pure from muddy waters, it represents a wise and spiritually enlightened characteristic trait — someone who is selfless and honorable.

Rain does have connections to rebirth, but it's more commonly connotes sadness, rejection, and despair. Rain falls upon the darkness and depression of human emotions, reflecting the forlorn and foreboding atmosphere. But at its bare basis, it is _water_ , the sustenance of life. Without water, there would be no life.

Derek groaned into his arms, "God, her scent makes my head spins." He shot a quick glance to his Mom. "In a good way."

"Well, sweetie," Talia smiled softly, "that doesn't explain why you were hitting your head against the table just now."

"Oh, that's because she called him out on stalking her." Laura divulged. "Told him to work harder on being _stealthy_."

Derek shot up and almost fell off the stool. "H-How did you know that?"

Laura grinned a smile full of teeth, "The corridors are not as empty as you think they are. Need to work on your senses little brother."

"Well, if this girl's sounds as good as she smells—"

"She is." Derek insisted.

Talia glanced over to her son, who was so clearly lost in the memory of Violin Girl's scent. "Any chance you'll introduce us to her and does she have a name? I can't call her Violin Girl now, can I?" She shrugged, pointing out that throughout their entire conversation, not once has Derek revealed her name.

He sighed with a hint of longing, "Her name is Paige Krasikeva, but she goes by Evaine."

* * *

Paig— _Evaine_ Krasikeva. Talia Hale _does_ indeed know the girl. She volunteered at the Animal Clinic, occasionally helping Alan with his patients. How could she not have noticed? The Emissary had spoken highly to Talia regarding Evaine many times before. According to Alan, Evaine was quite gifted with the violin and her knowledge of medicinal herbs was not something to scoff at.

Heading into her study, she picked up her phone and dialed. The dialing tone rang only once before he picked up.

"Alan?"

 _"Alpha Hale, what can I do for you?"_ The calm, familiar voice of her emissary crackled through the phone.

"Please Alan, this isn't official business." She chided with a smile, "You know an Evaine Krasikeva, right?"

 _"Of course. Sweet girl, she volunteers at the clinic every other day, working after school. Why?"_

"Derek noticed something about her."

A pause. _"And what did young Derek say?"_

"According to Derek, she smells like honeysuckle, lotus, and rain," Talia answered.

 _"An odd combination of scents, all highly symbolic in the supernatural world."_

The Alpha Female sighed, "That's what I thought too." She ran her hand through her dark-brown hair, "I need to know, have you noticed anything strange about her?"

He sighed over the phone; Talia could just see him thinking hard. _"She is oddly mature for her age, has a tendency to zone out sometimes, methodical, and a small mischievous streak. Other than that, I believe she is a very thoughtful girl. Has a chance at being a veterinary as well as being a musician, given her talent with the violin."_ He said, voice full of pride.

Talia shook her head at Alan's enthusiasm. "Is she to be the heir to your Animal Clinic?" She teased.

Alan chuckled, _"Who know? She does have a soft spot for puppies."_


	4. Animal Clinic

A/N: Thank you everybody for the follows and favorites, you guys are amazing ,

* * *

Evaine hitched her satchel higher onto her shoulder, taking another sip of her creamy, sweet cup of hazelnut latte before slipping into the Animal Clinic through the backdoor. Barely remembering to put the spare key back in its hideaway.

"Evaine, you're just on time."

Dr. Alan Deaton, veterinary extraordinaire who has a tendency to moonlight as a cryptic emissary, someone not afraid to sass a psychotic Alpha with a straight face. Throughout the entire series, his voice was always calm and steady. Not once, not even on the show had she ever seen him panic or squeak. Maybe it came in the package of being a chill-suave druid?

"And when have I ever been late?" She dropped her satchel to the side, and gently set her violin case down beside it. "Even if I needed to grab a latte."

Deaton signaled over to the dog kennels, "You know what to do, I'll let you know if anything pops up." The vet turned to the stack of files on the table, before sending her a mock stern look. "Try not to get distracted by the Malamute."

The dark umber-haired teenager stood to attention, giving him a two-finger salute. "Yes, Sir."

Rolling his brown eyes, he waved her away, but Evaine noticed the little twitch in the corner of his lips before he got started on the paperwork. With that, she skipped over to the dog kennels, hauling a bag of dog food behind her.

* * *

Derek was determined to know all there was to know about Evaine. After being called out on his dismal _stealth_ skills, he had decided to take a subtle path. Translation: using his heightened sense of hearing to eavesdrop on anyone's conversation regarding Evaine.

The teachers had nothing but praise for her, taking Algebra II and AP Science. Plus, there's the music teacher who gushed over Evaine and her dedication to playing the violin, sighing something about Juilliard and Royal College. Derek, personally, doesn't understand classical music and had little interest outside of the mainstream numbers, but meeting Evaine and hearing her play? He swallowed his embarrassment when he asked his Mom find the song she played. Now, he had a few classical music CDs.

After the family discussion about Evaine a few days ago, Derek overheard his Mom talking to someone. He only caught the end of the conversation, but it was enough to let him know that Evaine volunteered at the Animal Clinic every other day. However, Evaine had already called him out on stalking, and that isn't the kind of impression he wanted to make on her.

Their first meeting wasn't exactly ideal or great, him acting like a jerk and all, and his friends didn't help either. Any other interaction and conversation they had were purely academic, anything he learned about her was through eavesdropping. Although, it can't really get any worst than that.

He groaned, dragging his hand down his face.

"You're not going to start brooding again, are you?"

Peeking through his fingers, he saw Laura standing in front of him, arms crossed and with a wicked grin that spelled trouble and teasing. Hazel green eyes met brown in a clash of amusement and annoyance. "Need a lift?"

"Lift to where?"

His sister threw him an amused glare, "Wherever violin girl is."

Derek's eyes narrowed, grumbling. "I don't know where she is."

She scoffed, "I know for a fact that you can sniff her out if her scent is as potent as you say it is." The young beta growled but remained silent, refusing to rise to his sister's bait. "Plus, I know she volunteers over at the Animal Clinic after school."

He thought about it for a moment, but honestly, did he really need to think about it?

* * *

To say Evaine was surprised when Derek showed up at the Animal Clinic was an understatement. At first, she thought he was here for Deaton, considering he was the Hale Pack Emissary, but then she remembered how Derek had no idea who Deaton was. The identities of the Emissaries were usually kept a secret, well, often. Julia Baccari, Kali's emissary, future Darach and another one of Derek's brief lovers. Maybe it varies from pack to pack?

God, he looked so much like an awkward puppy, fumbling about as he's getting used to their new home. Deaton gave him a little twitching stink eye when he came through the front doors. Derek was lucky that it was a slow day. Otherwise, this would've been more awkward than he could handle.

At the moment, the young Hale was awkwardly helping by feeding the cats. Deaton's orders.

"Go easy on him," Deaton advised. Evaine was about to protest when but gapped, brows furrowed at the sight of him prepping the scalpels in an incredibly nonchalant manner. Derek saw this as he exited the cat kennels, leaving behind a cacophony of shrieks and meows. He paused, wolf becoming deer-in-headlights.

"Go easy on him, huh?" The violinist parroted, with a deadpan glint in her eyes. The Veterinary-Emissary replied with a serene smile and examining the bladed instrument under the headlamp before continuing to disinfect them.

* * *

"Hey Little Mish, how are you?" She cooed at the sight of the Alaskan Malamute-Husky mix in the kennel. The bundle of light-gray-white fur barked and yipped, jumping up against the fence.

"Alright, alright," she shook her head, "Calm down, will you?" Mish jumped her the moment she unlatched the gate. The weight of the year-old puppy made her fall onto the ground

"Need a hand?"

Laughing, she peered over Mish's head under the assault drool and mass of fur. Derek stood in the doorway, shifted on his feet. Taking a deep breath, his eyes darted all over the place before stopping at her. Mish realizing the presence of an unknown turned and growled, hunched over her protectively. Derek instinctively responded in kind, eyes flashing amber a hint of amber, lips curling up a little into a growl.

"Down Mish, he's harmless." She soothed, running her fingers through his fur. Derek Hale, harmless — _oh the irony_. Under her touch, he settled down but kept his piercing gaze on Derek.

"Grab that sack of dog food over to your left."

He did as she asked, hauling the giant sack of dry dog food towards them. With Mish on her heels, she moved to divvy the food out into the dog bowls and refilled their water. They worked together in — comfortable on her half perhaps. One by one the dogs chomped down on the food, crunches, and cracks echoing in the air.

"His name is Mish?" he asked, breaking the silence.

Evaine glanced over to the dog in question, ears perked at the mention of his name but muzzle deep into the bowl as he carried on eating. "Mish is his nickname."

"So, Mish is short for…"

"Mieczyslaw."

Mieczyslaw "Stiles" Stilinski, future bumbling 90lbs thorn in the side of a particular sour wolf, the underestimated human who wield an aluminum bat and witty sarcasm as a form of defense. It is rare to find someone whose loyalty to his best friends and pack _never_ wavered and remained steadfast. It does give the guy brownie points when he's in love with the same girl for almost a decade.

"Me-ches-what?"

A laugh bubbled out from her lips as she watched Derek butcher Stiles' real name. God, wasn't that an exciting episode? The young Hale shot her a glare; she coughed. "Don't worry about it, a lot of people can't pronounce his name."

"You gave the dog a name people can't pronounce?"

"It's a good name," she huffed, "rolls off the tongue."

"Does _Deaton_ know how to pronounce his name?" He retorted

"Oh, he does," she assured; Mish burrowed over and rested his head on "just doesn't want to. Plus, Mish is also short for Mischief."

Mish barked in agreement, which set off the other dogs it wasn't long before they were all singing. Their eyes met, after staring at each other, the two teenagers felt laughter bubbling up from their chest. Seeing the familiar twinkle in the eyes, they dissolve into hysterics and amusement for absolutely no reason.

* * *

There is only so much you can learn about someone — a _fictional character_ , no less — through a television show, there was only so much effort the directors and producers of _Teen Wolf_ can and will put into the backstory of each and every character they created, no matter how minor. Even the main character will have gaps in their history. It's not like we spend every single waking moment with them as they go about their daily lives. We get a _glimpse_ , only when deem necessary to tell the story.

The TV series never revealed what they're favorite food was — curly fires for Noah Stilinski —childhood memory, their likes, and dislikes… the audience saw them mostly when they're facing enemies left, right and center and very few of them living normal lives. More often, juggling their supernatural responsibilities and trying to maintain some sense of normality before their wanderlust and curiosity rear its ugly hid.

With Mish's head on her lap, the violinist stole another glance over to Derek. She watched him play with the other dogs in the kennel, unwittingly agreeing to be their bed as they surround him. He looked like he was drowning in a rainbow of fur.

Running her fingers through Mish's fur, their eyes met. Amber-brown to arctic-maya blue.

 _Why not?_

* * *

"Can you skate?"

Derek's head shot up so fast, she thought he was going to give himself a whiplash. "W-What?"

Amused at his bafflement, she elaborated. "Skating. Do you know how to ice-skate?"

Mouth gaping open like a codfish, he sputtered about a series of sounds before nodding.

She wrapped her scarf around her neck tight and tucked it into her coat. Grabbing her satchel and violin case from the corner, she threw him a grin over her shoulders. "See you at the ice-rink at five."


	5. Snow Moon

_A/N (continues at the bottom too): 35 favorites and 42 followers? Wow, that's just a little insane o  
Thank you everybody for the new followers & favorites, you guys are utterly amazing.  
DarkDust27: It may be a while before we get to the dramatic part e.g. the bite, but there will be drama in between the canon scenes ~ _

_It might take a little longer for me to write the next chapter, sorry about that, things are a little hectic ~_

 _Hint for the next chapter: A scene from the episode 'Visonary'_

* * *

Vivian and Ivan were used to their daughter's chaotic mood swings and her bouts of melancholy. They grew accustomed to the mellow and crisp sound of her violin, smiling as it sung throughout the house. But, these past few weeks were nothing like they've dealt with before. Evaine expressed her mood through her music, and all the songs she played were classical of the darker caliber: Mozart, Chopin, Tchaikovsky, Bach, and Purcell.

Vivian's worried, glazed green eyes met Ivan's sepia-brown; they shared a look as they danced about the kitchen. The thrill of the house phone sliced through the silence. Ivan walked over to the stand and put it through the speakers.

 _'_ _Hey, Dad.'_

"Eva, how did practice go?"

 _'_ _It was alright, think I finally got the hang of that tricky bar that always tripped me up.'_ She chuckled.

"The one with the thrills?" Vivian asked; gathering the ingredients she needed for dinner. Their daughter hummed in agreement. "Those bars had you tearing your hair out, last I remember."

 _'_ _Well, my hair will now be safe from tears.'_

"That's good to know." Vivian moved the house phone aside to make space on the counter.

Ivan leaned close to the phone, "Are you on your way home?"

 _'_ _I'm heading over to the ice rink, actually.'_

"Did she say ice rink?" Vivian set the ingredients down on the counter, drying her hand on the dishcloth and then tying her brown hair back, using a hairband on her wrist.

"Why?" Vivian asked.

 _'_ _Would you believe me if I told you I just want to skate?'_

"No." The two adults deadpanned without moment's hesitation, eyes bearing holes into the phone.

 _'_ _Alright. Hypothetically, what would you say if I told you I was heading down there for a date? Hypothetically, of course.'_

" _A date_?" They chorus in unison. Ivan was about to protest when Vivian clamped her hand over his mouth, muffling his words.

"With whom?"

There was a beat of silence, _'I-It's not exactly a date, more like just hanging out with—"_

Vivian cut through, "What's his name?"

 _'…_ _Derek Hale.'_

"Talia's boy?" Ivan's brows almost vanished into his hairline, "The basketball player?"

"Wait," The brown-haired woman frowned, "Isn't he the one who interrupted you when you were practicing?"

 _'_ _Erm…'_ she cleared her throat, _'maybe?'_ the lilt of their daughter's mellow voice rose to another octave.

"Oh my God, our daughter's finally shown an interest in someone." Vivian squealed, over Evaine's indignant cry, excitement bubbling in her chest.

Her daughter wasn't like all the other girls her age, she never felt awkward when she started going through puberty, never showed any interest in anyone, concentrating her efforts on her violin and academics. Vivian accepted that her daughter was odd, possessed a level of maturity not found in ordinary teenagers as she plowed her way through school. On the other hand, this little fact pleased her husband to no ends, not having to worry about any of those _'troublesome little boys'_ sniffing around his daughter.

This time, Ivan frowned and grumbled. "If he doesn't behave—"

"Oh hush it, Ivan." Vivian lightly slapped his chest. "Well, I hope you enjoy your date sweetie."

"Fine, and I want you back before ten," Ivan added firmly.

 _'_ _Got it, Dad. Will do, Mum.'_

* * *

Evaine sat on the benches, sipping on a cup of hot chocolate; the dark sugary goodness chased the chills away. She always found it funny how the ice rink was always warmer than it was outside during the winter seasons.

She never took up ice-skating in her last life, it was something she saved for fun and solely when she was at Winter Wonderland. Going around and round in a circle, beginners and skittish skaters sticking close to the outer rim, to the railings where they can grab hold before their knees or butt slammed the ice, hard. The scent of mulled wine and cinnamon sung with the cold breeze as the people of the bustling city of London drunk on the Christmas-Winter cheer made their way through the holidays.

But this isn't London. This is _Beacon Hills_. More than _five thousand miles_ and a _whole another_ dimension away from home—

 _Don't think about it. Deep breaths._ Evaine muttered, _Think happy thoughts—_

The umber-haired violinist fought past the heavy memories. Ever since she decided to make the first move, had summoned the courage to set out into the hallway and confront him, her sanity was hanging by a thread. Even her parents had noticed her sudden spell of depression and agitation. It was impossible to hide.

She couldn't help it. _Evangeline_ was always an expressive woman, that was why she went on to study Acting at Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts. The raven-haired young woman studied hard and extensively, practicing in her spare time and sought out any and every opportunity to expand her skillset — to see it from every perspective. All that hard work earned her a role in Kenneth Branagh's production of _Romeo and Juliet_. Working alongside Richard Madden, Lily James and Derek Jacobi was _indescribable_. It was strange, seeing her role models standing right in front of her, being _themselves_ and not the _characters_ she knew them as on-screen. The weeks they spent rehearsing for this production, the _shenanigans_ that went on behind the scenes and during these read-throughs as they broke the ice; it was one of the best moment of her entire life.

Standing there on stage, living and breathing the small role of Peter — or _Peta_ , in Kenneth's world — being the comic relief along with Jacobi's Mercutio, the playful banter… nothing could describe the adrenaline coursing through her veins and giddy glee flourishing in her heart. The industry may thrive on connections, but she gained new friends and a new family with the company of Kenneth Branagh.

Growing up as an only child, Lily became the sister Evangeline never had, teaching her the tricks and smiles of the female wiles. Through her, she met Matt Smith, who simply was her eccentric older brother, reminding her too much of the Doctor off-screen as well as on-screen. Richard, on the other hand, became the annoying Scottish older brother, who loved teasing. Jenna always ended up giving him a glare and rolling her eyes.

Derek Jacobi — _Grandpa Jacobi_ , provided her with sound advice, along with everyone else on the cast, on how to make her way through the cut-throat world of the industry. Seeing how she was a young and aspiring actress, she needed to stand out, show the producers and casting directors that she deserved the role.

It was a shame when Richard injured his ankle a few weeks into the run of the show. What Evangeline found hilarious was when his understudy, Tom Hanson, injured knee just a few weeks later. When had Romeo ever been so unlucky in winning his lady love? Hope Madden appreciated that ice buck challenge, it was uncomfortable.

A wistful smile stretched across her face, remembering her pseudo brother's response to their ice buck challenge. Staring into her cup of hot — _lukewarm_ — chocolate, she lost herself down the memory lane of Evangeline Carter.

* * *

Derek arrived at the ice rink, nervous and jumpy, but stopped dead in his tracks when a Molotov cocktail of chemo-signals slammed into him harder than an avalanche. He took a deep breath, the werewolf could smell traces of Evaine's natural scent — _honeysuckle, lotus, and rain._ Hazel-green eyes dart across the room, freezing on the sight of Evaine, smiling ruefully into her drink.

Frowning, he slowly made his way towards her.

"Hey." He said, hesitantly.

Her head shot up, wide-eyed and startled looking so much like a frightened rabbit. She cleared her throat and gave him a tense smile, "Hey."

"Are you alright?" He asked. Derek wanted, so badly, to pull her into his arms and ease away her fears, lighten the air of melancholy weighing her down like anchors, dredging up the seabed. But he stopped himself.

"I'm okay," She smiled, waving away his concerns. "You ready to skate?"

Her heart skipped a beat; for a brief moment, her scent soured.

 _Liar_.

A frown threatened to break across his features, but instead, he curled his lips into a casual smile. "As ready as I'd ever be."

Tossing her drink into the nearby bin, she hopped off the beach and headed over to the skate rental desk, but after taking a few steps, she stopped in her tracks and spun around on her heels with a suspicious glint in her eyes.

Derek felt his heart skip; Evaine wore a knitted cable cardigan over a plain pastel blue tank top with a pair of dark denim that was folded up so it wouldn't get in the way of her pair of black military boots. Her hair was loosely braided aside, tied off with a green ribbon. But her eyes drew him in.

Her eyes, they were dark pools of cinnamon swirls, seized with honey depths of a thousand emotions flickering too fast to identify, imprisoned with the saccharine bourbon and a dash of espresso. His eyes picked up the flecks of sunlit amber and copper coins, dancing within the that shone like the cosmos of stars in the sky.

"—and you're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you?"

"No, I am." He automatically replied as he always does whenever he got caught daydreaming.

She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head to the right a little. "Oh really?"

"Really." He assured.

The young werewolf knew that she wasn't fooled; her piercing gaze shot right through him, deep into his soul. She must've found whatever she was looking for because she softened her gaze and offered a hand.

* * *

They spent a good two hours on the ice. She spent the first teaching Derek how to skate. He wasn't too bad — sprawled out on the ice like Bambi, slipping and skidding. It took a couple of rounds sticking close to the edge and using the handrail, but he got there… eventually. She would figure that having supernatural reflexes would save him from falling flat on his ass once or twice, guess somethings can't be translated into the ice rink. God, Evaine wished she took photos of his Bambi moment. Something to hold over him other than his deplorable stealth — _stalking_ — skills.

God, Peter was right. Young Derek Hale was so very much like Scott McCall. How he boasted that he was a 'great bowler' and such a terrible and awkward skater. The hand Fate dealt him affected him a lot more than Evaine realized, now that she'd experienced and spent time with this version of him.

Evaine held onto the edge of the bench, her entire body quivering in laughter, "I can't believe you—"

Balancing on the blades, Derek hobbled over to her. Sitting down, his head fell into the palm of his hand with a groan, eyes squeezed shut. "Please don't."

"Y-You — fell — on top — of her!"

"It wasn't like I did it on purpose." He protested, but it fell on deaf ears as another round of laughter erupted from within her chest.

"God, did you see the look on her face? That _stink_ eye she gave you?" She cried, "If she had it her way, you'd be twenty feet under right now."

Derek shot her a look. Evaine stifled her laughter with coughs, but just barely.

"You said you could skate." She stated as she unsnapped the buckles on the skates.

"I never said I could skate." He interrupted; unfastening the buckles as quickly as he could to get the death contraption off his feet.

She narrowed her eyes, "Yes you did."

"No, all I gave you was a nod. Never actually said I could skate." He grinned, trying so hard not to smirk as he turned the tables on her.

"Touché."

* * *

They both, unanimously and voicelessly, agreed to headed over to the little café, ordering burgers, fries, and sodas. They didn't want the day to end, just quite yet. The pair fell into a comfortable silence, watching everybody else skate through the window as they wait for their food to arrive.

Derek observed her out of the corner of his eyes. Seeing how her eyes held a little glazed-sheen, he gave her his undivided attention, focusing every one of his senses to the girl that smelt of honeysuckle, lotus, and rain, sitting across from him.

"So how's basketball? Practice in any more hallways?"

He rolled his eyes, "Basketball's fine."

"Made any improvement on your stalking skills?" She said like a casual comment regarding the weather, popping another fry into her mouth.

Derek gapped, indignant, glowering at the smirk on her lips, amber-brown eyes twinkling. There was no hiding how embarrassed and how bruised his ego felt at that little jab. Although honestly, as a werewolf he _should_ have the upper hand over her, he's fumbling about worse than a pup.

With that, the lull at the moment was broken, and conversation flowed. They talked about everything and anything; from the Mr. Davis, the mean history teacher everybody hated to their most memorable, mischievous childhood moments that left them choking on their cups of sodas, almost snorting them out of their noses.

Their peals of laughter left their muscles aching and tears rolling from the corner of their eyes. In vain, they tried to control themselves. The teenagers weren't aware of the attention they captured from the bystanders. Wistful smiles from the elderly and adults, quirked brows and eye rolls from the other teens.

The violinist rested her elbow on the table and leaned against the palm of her hand, body still feeling the aftereffects. Hysterics dying down, leaving behind a natural high.

At that moment, Evaine made a decision.

* * *

Beacon Hill Preserve looked as ominous as it every other occasion, but the late sunset set the forest on fire with a ripple of crimson-orange shining through the skeletal trees, liquid flames dancing the waltz with the winter orchestra. Evaine and Derek made their way to the picnic area, the grassy forest floor muffling their footsteps.

Less than two miles from where the Hale House stood.

This night looked a lot like the night Scott got bit.

They stood there, comfortable with the silence that clung to their shoulders accompanied by the whispering of the trees with their arms spike up, praying to the sky as the realm of woodland slept for the night.

Derek was surprisingly compliant in agreeing to her strange request. Taking a stroll through Beacon Hill Preserve at eight at night, when the sun is slowly long gone down? Now isn't that how all horror movies began? Although, neither of them is blonde, so there goes that cliché. Maybe it was because he's a werewolf because what can a feeble human like her can do to him?

"Do you know that the Native Americans had a name for each full moon?" she breathed, barely above a whisper that flew away with the winter-spring puff. Back turned, the violinist kept her eyes fixed on the glimmer of light, hiding behind the clouds. She waited for his reply.

Clearing his throat, he stood next to her. "Yeah, but I one name."

"Which one?" _Did I really need to ask?_

"The Wolf Moon." He admitted after a pause,

She hummed. _The Wolf Moon_. Of course, if there were any full moon werewolves would celebrate, it'd be The Wolf Moon, but it's commonly known as January's full moon although some say it's December's too. Still, doesn't explain why there was a huge pack gathering when the Hale Fire happened. Definitely, couldn't see them celebrating the Hunter's Moon.

"I have a dissociative disorder."

Derek's head practically snapped towards her, she was surprised he didn't get a whiplash from that quick action.

"The doctors are usually specific when it comes to identifying mental disorders, but since I'm a little all over the place, they decided to throw the general label my way." She gave a small chuckle laced with bitterness, "They haven't ruled out DID either."

"D-DID?" He choked, not quite sure what else to say.

"Dissociative Identity Disorder." He stared at her blankly, showing not a trace of a reaction, "It's what used to be known as Multiple Personality Disorder."

* * *

The young Hale refused to react until he had heard everything she had to say, but he couldn't restrain the gasp that tore its way out. _DID, Multiple Personality Disorder_ … What is the appropriate reaction to a bomb like this? How does one react towards a serious topic such as this other than sitting there and listen to everything she had to say. Derek knew that mental disorders are a difficult and sensitive subject; mind crashing at a million miles, he wondered why Evaine would bring this up. Then, recognition gleamed in his eyes.

Evaine jumped. She took a leap of faith and spilled. In that split moment, sitting there with laughing dying on her lips, she realized that she wanted him to know the truth, half-truths — can't exactly tell him about the whole reincarnation issue. She wanted him to know exactly what to expect if he wanted to get involve with her. She wanted him to know the snickering demons whispering in her ears, always tormenting her waking consciousness over and over: _'you stole her life.'_

She wanted him to know how the realization of her death was a freight train that struck her down hard and fast at the tender age of three, as fury boiled through her veins at life and how merciless Fate was. How she became a feral animal, lashing out at everything and anything that came in her way, over the slightest and littlest of thing. She had dragged herself through the stages of grief; denial and isolation — **_this can't be happening, this isn't real, this just isn't possible_** _—_ anger — **_what did I do? Why me? Damn Fate, damn life, damn second chances, whywhywhywhy_** _—_ depression — **_don't look at me like that! I stole your daughter's life! Stop being so understanding! Leave me alone! I'm not your daughter! I practically killed your daughter! What am I doing here?_** _—_ Then, acceptance… _Mum, can I learn how to play the violin?_

She wanted him to know how she lost herself in Evangeline's memories, resurfacing to find her parents, looking at her with such concern and anguish and find days had passed during her trip into the mist. How she'll have days that blur together and pass by in a daze and her parents — _so accepting and supportive_ — did their best, coaxing her back to reality with a smile and a cup of green tea.

So immersed into her wanderings, Evaine had no idea what was happening around her, the nerves to her senses were severed, and she lost all stimulus from the outside world. Stuck inside her head, nothing mattered anymore. Like a rock in a stream, the world rushed past her; she was drowning in Evangeline's memories.

"—Evaine, look at me," hands pressed to her cheeks, forcing her head up to look at Derek. "Evaine, you're here, okay? Say it with me, _bailarina_. I'm right here, I'll never leave you."

No. He shouldn't bother. Fifteen years and she still haven't figured out who's in control, but then again, "I shouldn't exist." Yes, that's the truth. She stole Paige's life and everything she would've done. When you're dead, you _stay_ dead. You don't get a _second chance_ and tossed into a new life carrying a shit ton of baggage from your last. It as a mercy to forget the past, forget the people you once loved and experience everything anew, not tainted by lingering ghosts of lost friends. But Life was out of mercy when Evangeline died. Fate decide to throw her into a life she knew will blaze brightly with haunting intensity, but die sooner than the measured length of the wick.

 _I shouldn't exist. This world shouldn't exist. Why am I here? I stole her life. I stole Paige's life. I'msosorrysosorrysorrysorrysoryy—_

" _Bailarina_ , you're here, with me." Derek leaned in close and bumped his forehead to hers while he whispered. "Stay with me, _please._ " When he leaned back, she made a little, panicked noise — _need you, need you, don't leave, don't leave_

She shook. Her entire body heaved and trembled, but it wasn't because of the cold… "Derek—" he shushed her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, tucked her into the empty spaces of his body. He nuzzled into her hair, thumb rubbing soothing circles with gentle rocks.

A faint mewl clawed its way out from her chest, and her tears fell.

* * *

"Why are you still here Derek?" Evaine rasped, feeling bone-deep exhaustion aching all over, but her senses returned and knew that _he was still here_. "Why didn't you leave here?" He made no attempt to move, still wrapped up around her.

"You didn't give me a reason to." He replied, combing his fingers through her hair. "Plus, what kind of guy would I be, if I left you in the middle of Beacon Hill Preserve all on your own? My Mum would tan my hide if I did."

Evaine couldn't help the bubble of laughter that escaped her lips. Licking her lips, she took a deep breath, quietly exhaling, and then reminded him, "I'm not right in the head Derek."

She couldn't explain what happened back then, but she so desperately wanted— _needed_ to tell him. He doesn't know how much darkness the future holds for him, how many years he'll spend drowning in self-loathing and shame, clinging onto Laura, the only person he had left, only to lose her to his power-crazed Uncle Peter. To revive the Hale Pack, only to lose them, one by one… to Alphas, out of protection and by his own hand.

"So what?" Derek asked, "Is this you trying to scare me off?"

"What if I am?" She leaned back a little, to meet his gaze. "Derek, you have _no idea_ what you're signing yourself up for with me."

A frown creased his features, he rested his forehead against hers. "Why don't you let me decide that for myself?"

Derek's eyes bore into hers, searching, unwavering. His eyes gave the barest of flickers, down to her lips then back to her eyes. Their noses He hesitantly brushed his lips against hers, so light of a caress that she barely felt it. Taking silence as a tentative acceptance, he kissed her. Derek kissed her, and the world fell away, obliterating every single demon lurking in her mind. It was chaste, slow and comforting in so many ways that reality isn't. Her worries were drained away, cleansing her twisted soul like a refreshing summer shower, laced with electrifying thunderstorms to counter the blistering heat. His hands rested below her ear, thumb caressing her cheeks as their breaths mingled.

Impatience and hunger hid in the undertone, but there was no rush, suspended in time, locked into the moment, Evaine had no desire for the kiss to end. With her hand resting on his back, she ran her fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until they couldn't tell where they began and end. Heat bloomed everywhere he touched, from her lips to the shy wandering hands through layers of clothing. The nervous thrumming of his beating heart against her chest soothed her nerves; drunk on endorphins, Derek's hand slipped underneath her jacket and rested on the small of her back. Within moments, the uncertain soft touch became confident and firm, it anchored her to the present. He was savoring her lips, and the quickening of her breaths as she stifled the gasps, taking a gulp of much-needed air before they came together for another.

Euphoric bliss, liquid warmth and intoxicating giddiness, a kiss like this was an unspoken promise, a promise of much more to come.

* * *

 _A/N: I've personally never had a panic/anxiety attack before, at least not of the more commonly known sort, so that scene is essentially a combination of different reactions and experiences from friends and others. I hope I do it justice and not offend anyone with my portrayal of mental disorders._

 _Review, comment, let me know how you feel about the story so far?_


	6. Mine, Yours

Evaine couldn't stop the tsunamis of self-doubt and loathing from washing over her as she wallowed in self-pity. _He was so different_. This Derek… was so _different_ from the Derek she saw as through Evangeline's eyes. So, different from what he would — _might_ — be a decade later. Jaded and scarred by the guilt he held close to his heart, of the role he played in causing the Hale Fire that essentially decimated his pack.

She was sat in the music room, staring off into the distance when it just struck her. She'd caused so much pain for him because her death was the catalyst for _everything_. The Hale Fire, Scott, the Kanima, Darach. Paige's — _her_ — death broke a part of Derek, sending him spiraling off the fathomless depth, so lost that he never saw _Kate Argent_ coming; swaying seductively, whispering sweet promises and fluttering her doe-like eyes his way. She took advantage of his depression and vulnerable state, earning a wounded animal's tentative trust before thrusting a wolfsbane-tipped dagger into his heart, letting the toxic grow into a shard of ice over the years, shredding his heart into strips.

The cards are on the table. Evaine had shown him her demons and threw an obstacle straight into the path of his lay-up. Mentioning _'mental disorder'_ would normally send an ordinary person running towards the hill, never to look back — too much baggage to work through. _Multiple Personality Disorder_ , the Holy Grail of Psychiatry, as the most controversial disorder with no clear consensus on treatment or diagnoses criteria, there was only so much CBT, hypnotherapy and medication Evaine could take.

Eventually, the treatments just made things worse. Evaine knew _exactly_ what was wrong. She should've stayed dead. Not that she told Dr. Francis that; it'd be a one-way ticket to the mental asylum, accompanied by the men in white coats. The violin helps, music is universal, no matter which dimension you're in. Thankfully, there were the innovators: Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, and Schubert, then the modern artists: Yiruma, who released _First Love_ two years ago and Einaudi. It'd be a while before Ramin Djawadi made his appearance, not that she had a look at the scores, but that doesn't stop her from humming _Light of the Seven_ every once in a while.

God, Evangeline never even came close in the romance department. Too focused on securing a stable future before even thinking about relationships, she hadn't met anyone she wanted — needed — to be in a relationship with. Not to mention, there was also that gut feeling, whispering _no, not him / not now / no chemistry_ constantly in her ears to the point where she figured that he'll come to her when she least expected it. Eventually, Evangeline believed that she had time, there was no need to throw herself into a relationship with someone just because she felt lonely and left out from her group of friends. She didn't need to be in a relationship to feel complete.

It wasn't like there was a manual on relationships, there was no step-by-step guide. Everyone did things differently. Evaine's Step One was telling Derek off with every ounce of sass she had. Step Two, calling him out on his dismal stalking skills. Step Three, tell him that she was a touch insane.

Evaine had laid out the cards, tried to scare him away for his sake. Telling him of her dissociative disorder and its common association to the infamous Multiple Personality Disorder and yet, two months later… _he's still here_. She kept questioning why would he stay, but kept coming up with blanks.

Shaking her head, she took _Ellen's Chant_ _Ave Maria_ score out from her satchel and spread it out across the music stand. Ms. Williams, her music teacher, had organized a recital at the end of the semester, _Ave Maria_ was one of the pieces she chose to showcase their skills. Taking a deep breath, she drew her bow and let muscle memory take over. Evaine wanted to learn this piece off by heart, but she wasn't quite there yet.

She stumbled over the fifth and eighth bar, pursing her lips in annoyance as her fingers refused to obey her mind. Huffing, she went through them, one bar at a time, performing them again and again until it Evaine got the rhythm right.

Halfway through her third run of the piece, Evaine felt the hairs on her neck prickle and shiver. At first, she ignored it, concentrating on the scores and notes, but the sensation persisted; she sighed. "What are you staring at?"

With his bag hanging off one shoulder, Derek leaned against the doorway with a tranquil smile stretched across his face. The corners of her lips twitched, threatening to stretch into a smile at the sight of him. He kept staring, gaze intensifying by each passing second. Evaine barely held back the shiver traveling down her spine.

Derek shook his head. "I'm not staring," he admitted, "I'm listening."

Evaine felt the corners of her lips twitch a little, but didn't reply, feeling a little pleased that he enjoyed listening to her.

"Am I distracting you?" he asked, looking a little unsure.

"No," she shook her head with a small smile and reassured him. "I've got laser-like focus."

Derek shot her a familiar smirk as he makes his way towards her, leaving his bag by the door.

"You sure about that?" He asked, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Instead of answering, she returned her attention back to the scores, starting back at the beginning of the bar. A few draws of the bow in, she felt his fingers brushed lightly against her arm, tracing his way across her shoulders. Evaine sighed, feeling herself melt a little under his touch, but she steeled herself and concentrated on the position of her fingers and correct up-down draw of the bow.

He continued with his ministration, coming around to right side, to her exposed neck, tracing the collar of her top, wishing she wore something that tighter and not so baggy that it hung off her shoulders.

"Derek," she warned, but there was no bite to her voice and her the slightest twitch in the corner of her lips gave her mirth away.

"Yes?" he chuckled, and then he lowered his mouth to her ear, letting his breath heat the skin around her ears as his arms gently wrapped itself around her waist, squeezing her in a soft hug. Evaine stopped playing, leaning back into his arms and hummed in delight.

"Hate you." She muttered, facing her boyfriend with a turn of the head.

Derek met her gaze and solemnly stated, "No, you don't." His arrogant and mischievous air evaporated as the playfulness bled out from his hazel eyes. "Are you mine?" There was a questioning lilt in his voice as it wavered.

He tightened his grip around her waist; his insecurities are clear as day, a side of him she rarely saw during school. Evaine couldn't help but gaze back in awe, a stark reminder that this was real. She couldn't be certain if what she saw in his eyes was true because — despite collectively being 34 years old — she had never experienced any other kind of love other than familial. Honestly, Evaine doesn't believe they're quite there yet, but here he was, standing here two months later practically offering his soul to her in the palm of his hand, his precious gift to her.

Without a moment's hesitation, she replied. "Yours."

* * *

With Evaine sitting sideways on his lap, they basked in the silence as time slipped by. They rarely got a chance to enjoy moments like this alone. With this sense of giddy glee clinging onto their hearts, their lips were permanently stuck curled upwards into a goofy smile. It made their cheeks ached, but they couldn't bring themselves to stop smiling.

He nuzzled into her neck, tickling her with his breath when something black caught his attention, peeking out of the neckline of her jumper. He frowned, recognizing the color as a faded black of a tattoo.

"What's this?" he asked; with his free hand, he dragged the neckline of her top further down her shoulders. His eyes widened at the sight of a familiar triple spiral.

"A tattoo?" Evaine whispered with a hint of uncertainty, but Derek remained silent, too shocked to see his pack's symbol permanently inked onto her skin. "I got it done last year."

"How did you get a tattoo?"

She mimed zipping her lips with a wink.

Derek pursed his lips. "Why the triskelion?" he felt her shiver as he traced the swirls with his fingers.

She hummed her agreement. "It means different things to different people. Mother, Father, Son. Past, Present, Future."

"What does it mean to you?" Derek peered into her eyes.

He could smell her anxiety and nerves rolling off from her in waves, souring her scent. That didn't sit well with his wolf, wanting so very much to take over and ease her back into the scent of serenity. Derek moved his fingers away from the triskelion and cupped her face, caressing the apples of her cheek in an unspoken request to look at him. She did. Their eyes met, amber-brown to green-hazel.

She sighed, "To me, it a representation of a Buddhist mantra: 'Three things cannot be long hidden: The Sun, the Moon, and the'—"

"Truth." They said together. Silence fell over them.

"Words to live by."

Evaine gave him a small pursed-smile, "Thought if there are words I'd ever want live by, might as well be something tangible."

Realization struck him. Evaine would always keep her hair down and gathered over her right shoulder, never her left even if it meant having to push away wavy strands from her face in frustration.

Emotion flickered across her eyes, tilting her head in a cat-like motion. Dressed in a simple, loose jumper that hung off her lithe frame and fitted trousers, she looked beautiful. Derek tucked a wayward strand behind her ear, feeling a strange urge to do… _something_ , but he couldn't figure out what.

He wondered if Evaine knew just how much she meant to him, how much of an affect she has on him. Everything about her, from the way she looked after the strays at the animal clinic, how she adored Mysh to how she never failed to try her best with anything she put her mind to. Derek always saw the steel in her eyes, with the way she stood up against his friends when they were acting like idiots and the girls when they were annoying flies around a lion. But at this moment, she was a stillness falling over the lands, waiting for something… anything to break the silence.

Heat stirred in his body as her scent drove him wild. Her playful-smirks practically killed him each time she feels mischievous. Her touch and hugs, it took everything he had not to wolf out in public, whenever she showered him with affection.

He took a deep breath, trailing a finger down her cheek. "You're mine."

Evaine frowned in confusion for a split moment, before a wistful smile broke across her face. "I'm yours."

Derek suddenly felt the urge to destroy the distance between them — despite her sitting in his lap — drown himself in her scent and nibble that pale neck of hers with his scent, his mark.

 _Mark her! Take her!_

Something inside of him snapped. At the sight of the triskelion, _his pack_ insignia tattooed onto her skin right at the nape where her shoulder and neck met — he snapped.

Combing his hand through her hair, he pulled her towards him, crushing his lips against her. She gasped and wrapped her arms around his neck, melting into his arms. God, he couldn't imagine ever getting used to how _amazing_ and intoxicating Evaine felt. He groaned, pressed closer, wanting so much to bury himself inside of her and never come out. He forced himself into her mouth, his tongue dueling with hers. She responded by straddling his lap, rolling her hips against his, her moan made his blood boil — his eyes flashed amber.

"Evaine," he whispered, breaking away from the kiss to lick and nibble at her neck, pay close attention to the triskelion seared into her skin. He could taste and feel the difference in skin texture, it was a sensitive spot now, making her shiver at the brush of his breath.

 _"_ _Derek…"_

He wanted nothing more than to claim her, right there and then. But this wasn't the time nor place. Breathing heavily, he smirked into the nape of her neck, "Gotcha."

She groaned with a hint of a smile, "So not fair. Nowhere did it say that it'll get sensitive where the tattoo is."

"Did it hurt?"

She hummed, "Yeah, but it was the good kind of hurt." She glanced down to her tattoo, "To be honest, I kind of miss the ache."

A wolfish smirk stretched across his face, "Evaine, is there something you want to tell me?"

He was answered with a series of indignant squeaks, failing to voice anything other than becoming flustered.

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update. I wanted to wait until I was done with most of my assignments before I throw myself back into the fanfiction world. Can't believe I've got 63 followers and 51 favorites. Thank you so much you guys.**

 **I have upgraded this from a T to a M, for the slightest hint of possible smut (just heavy make out, teenagers having fun, but nothing explicit to be honest) and possible violence coming up in _very_ later chapters.**

 **I will let you know that I have the entire story roughly planned out. I estimate that _Around the Triskelion She Goes_ will end with after 15 chapters, but fear not, I do have a sequel in mind  & in the works :)**

 **Until next time,**

 **Nyxie**


	7. Meeting the Krasikevas

The infamous Beacon Hill High School Library. Even after fifteen years, Evaine would never get used to all these locations of this reality. Two floors of rows upon rows of pure resources, from so many different kinds of topics — some she swore would never usually be found in the normal Dewey Decimal System. Just last week, as she was looking for the initial-graffiti shelf, she found a very _familiar_ , dusty, old book on mythology, specifically Hellhounds and Ghost Riders. She could have sworn it was the same book Lydia found at the end of the first half of Season Five. With a smile, she wrote a little note — a warning — and tucked it in between the pages, right next to the image of the Ghost Riders.

But right now, there are no troubles. No kanima, Alpha packs, Ghost Riders or Wild Hunt.

It was almost time for their finales, and everybody's cramming those textbooks like mad. There was a stark difference between the American and British education system, especially when it came to their High Schools. Apart from spreading out the curriculum throughout the entire three-years more sparsely and taking SATs on the weekends, it wasn't hard to adapt… if only the SATs didn't feel like an IQ test for Mensa. From what she seen in the example exam papers, she could barely make a connection between what the teachers taught them in class and the actual content of the exams. Guess they're more about applying their knowledge rather than recalling.

Feeling overwhelmed by her History essay, Evaine let her pen clattered mutely against the pages of her exercise book, shaking out the sharp ache in her hand. She leaned against Derek, sat beside her. His pen danced across the line paper in a flurry as he rushed to finish off his English essay.

"How's the English paper going?"

He rested his head against hers but didn't stop writing. "Not too bad, just another two paragraph, the conclusion, and I'm done."

She grimaced, "Knowles' not really my cup of tea." Derek shot her a look, knowing what she did then. "Give me Homer and Shakespeare any day. I can never bring myself to be interested in fiction about the World Wars or political BS. "

"I betcha you finished your paper on The Odyssey during the weekend."

She arched a brow, lightly bumping him with her shoulder, "Derek, you should know me by now. I finished that paper the week we got it."

"Well, some of us were busy with basketball practice."

"Recitals," She shot back.

He chuckled, amused by how his girl always had a comeback, "Not all of us are as organized as you are Evaine."

"You mean, if your friends hadn't insisted on a 'guys' night out,'" she quoted with her fingers, "even though you just had one after the game last week. If you had said no, then you wouldn't be rushing to get this written, edited and proofread for tomorrow."

Derek opened his mouth to protest but quickly closed it. He knew there was no point. She was right. As much as he liked his friends, he had grown bored halfway through the night, wanting more than anything to celebrate his win with Evaine at their favorite café while working on their papers. God, when did he become such a sap?

"Hey, how do you feel about coming over to my place… tomorrow." Evaine proposed, running her fingers through her hair.

He frowned in confusion. "Not that I wouldn't want to, but why do I feel like there's a catch?"

"Because there always is."

Derek quirked a brow, waiting for her to carry on.

She cleared her throat, earning an estranged gaze from the stern librarian that reminded them a little too much of Madame Pince. "My parents want to meet you."

Derek's pen fell out of his hand, rolling off his pad, letting the sentence die in his head as he slowly turned to face his girlfriend. "T-They want to meet me?"

She hummed, "Well, we have been dating for about three months… my Mum thought it was high time you came over for dinner."

"Your — your Mum?"

"Well…" she cocked her head to the side, "Dad too, but it's fine if you're busy tomorrow—"

"No, no, no, no. Tomorrow is fine." He gulped back a lump in his throat as his heart thumped away at 90mph. "So… what are we having for dinner?"

"My parents are vegans so they're making vegan steaks," Evaine said with a shrug. The werewolf felt his heart and stomach plummet into the ground, feeling himself grow pale and clammy at the thought of it.

She blinked owlishly at him, for a few seconds before barking out in laughter, which she silenced with a hand over her mouth. "Oh, my God," her entire body spasm in silent laughter, as she bent over and hid in her arms.

"Y-You," he sputtered indignantly. "How could you?"

"Oh wow," Evaine sniffed, wiping away the tears gathered at the edge of her eyes. "You should've seen the look on your face! Priceless."

"I can't believe you did that."

"For a moment there, you looked like you were about to drop dead on me."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Derek shot Evaine a glare, but it faltered at the scent of happiness drenched all over her.

"I swear, the steak will be 100% beef, and done the way you like it: medium rare." She took a look at her watch and showed it to him. With a sigh, they started packing up their belongings before the rest of the student body surged into the hallways. Arriving outside of their Algebra class, Evaine pecked Derek on the lips, pulling away with a content smile.

"Tomorrow, 7 o'clock. Don't be late."

* * *

"Dad, I swear to God if you're still cleaning your gun when he gets here—"

Her Dad, Ivan had his collection of guns, and a cleaning kit spread out on the living room table. He looked up from the disassembled parts with a grin that seemed innocent, but the mischief in his eyes was unmistakable.

"What, you know that gun maintenance is vital—"

"Yes, but not when my boyfriend is arriving in twenty minutes." Her Dad's overprotective nature exasperated Evaine, but there was nothing she could really do about it. It also doesn't help that Ivan was a Deputy at the Beacon Hill Sheriff Station.

* * *

 _Two years ago…_

 _Evaine blinked once, twice, wondering for a split moment whether or not she was hallucinating. Standing on the front porch, was the familiar face of Sheriff Noah Stilinski along with Claudia, holding a baked tray with a tin-foil cover. Meatloaf? She blinked again. This was the last thing she expected when Dad said he had invited his partner and his family over for dinner._

 _Murphy's Law sucks._

 _"Hi, you must be Ivan's daughter, Paige?" Claudia said with a gentile smile._

 _She nodded stiffly, "Yeah," her voice broke a little, so she coughed in an attempt to clear the lump in her chest. "But I go by Evaine. I'm guessing you're my Dad's partner?"_

 _"Nice to meet you Evaine," Sheriff Stilinski offered a hand, which Evaine took, feeling tinged with a sense of surreal. "I'm Deputy Noah Stilinski, this is my lovely wife, Claudia. And this little troublemaker here is my son, Stiles." He gestured to the little boy, hiding just out of sight, behind his mother._

 _Nervously peering at her with those whiskey-colored eyes, Evaine felt her heart melt a little. Flashes of a lanky, sarcastic, aluminum-bat wielding teenager and future FBI agent dashed behind her eyes. She bent down at her knees, so she was eye-level with him._

 _Cocking her head to the left, she gave him a soft smile. "Hi Stiles, that's a cool name."_

 _He was wary of her, she could tell by that familiar suspicious pout of his lips and tick of his eye. Good. His cautious yet Gryffindor nature was what got Scott and the Beacon Hill pack through a majority of the problems. He looked up to his parents for help, but they simply encouraged him to say something._

 _"It's a family name," he finally mumbled, almost inaudible was it not for the fact that it was an extremely quiet night._

 _Evaine nodded, "Well, you look like a little Mischief Maker to me." Stiles practically lit up at the little nickname she gave him; she narrowed her eyes with a playful smirk. "Are you?"_

 _Stiles looked like he wanted to give her a snarky reply, but was interrupted by her Mother, Vivian coming up behind her._

 _"Evaine, are you just going to let them stand out there on the porch?"_

* * *

God, she'd never forget the day she met Mieczyslaw "Stiles" Stilinski, her little Mischief Maker who loved all things Star Wars and supernatural. After bestowing him that little nickname and showing him her movie collection, Stiles latched onto her like a barnacle, declaring her his unofficial big sister. Of course, it was no surprise when Scott McCall came along with his adorable, puppy brown eyes. They were a package deal. Evaine found it amusing that she had a hand in encouraging Stiles' insatiable curiosity for all things mysterious.

Since then, whenever Noah and Claudia were out on 'date night' and Melissa McCall couldn't take Stiles because of a shift, it fell onto her to babysit the future True Alpha and ex-Nogitsune.

She wondered how teenage Derek would react to the two, cheeky and innately curious six-years-old. She'd seen how teenage Derek and Stiles interacted when he was temporary reverted back to his fifteen-years-old self — _Miguel_. God she'd never not find that funny, especially that scene with Danny. Stiles, the human who managed to survive insane, power-crazed Alphas, kanima, Darach and possession by the Nogitsune, couldn't tell a better lie to Scott's Dad. He was lucky that Derek actually spoke Spanish.

"I think it's mandatory for me to pull the shovel talk." Ivan grinned as he cleaned the barrel of the gun.

" _Dad!_ "

"Ivan, leave your guns alone and help me with the salad," Vivian yelled from the kitchen.

Evaine quirked a brow with a hint of a smug grin. "Ooo, her indoors," she quoted, although, not that they knew that. It would be about seven years before anyone know where that came from.

Ivan gestured to his eyes, then to her with two fingers before making his way into the kitchen. Evaine glanced over to the table and grimaced.

* * *

Derek fixed the collar on his shirt and his cuffs, again. His heart shouldn't be pounding away harder than a jack-rabbit's. His hands shouldn't be clammy or shaking as he ran it through his hair.

Oh, who was he trying to kid? This was downright the most frightening thing he'd ever done in his life. Meeting his girl's parents was customary and standard considering how serious their relationship was, but God he never thought it would be _this_ nerve wrecking.

It also didn't help that Ivan Krasikeva worked at the Sheriff station as a Deputy. Could've been worse. He could've been a Hunter. He cringed at the thought, the mere idea of them being star-crossed lovers destined for a double-suicide. No, that's not them. They are not the sappy Romeo and Juliet who couldn't see any other way to be together, other than in death.

Of course, he still hadn't found the courage to tell her about him being a werewolf, but he was certain that Evaine simply wouldn't care. She was the most open-minded person he had ever met, with an eccentric taste. She was always willing to see things from a different angle, just to make sure that she made the right judgement. Evaine would never walk into a conversation wearing rose-tinted glasses or ignorant. God, he still couldn't believe that she was his.

He hadn't told his mother about Evaine's tattoo; he found himself a tad possessive over that fact. The mere idea that she unwittingly marked herself at the nape of her neck. It practically screamed out to the supernatural world not only did she belong to the Hale Pack, but also that she was claimed.

His eyes flashed amber as a low, smug growl rumbled from his chest.

No, their story will not end with a tragedy.

Not if he had anything to do about it.

* * *

 _Knock, knock, knock._

"I got it!" Evaine shot up from the couch, running a hand through her hair as she headed for the door before her Dad could.

Standing on her porch, was an impeccably dressed Derek Hale, in a smart shirt, decent pair of jeans and holding a bouquet of her favorite flowers — _sweetpeas and lilacs_ — with a nervous but loving smile.

"Hi," she greeted with a coy smile. "You got me flowers?"

Derek gave her a shrug of his shoulders and a smile. "Figured I should at least adhere to some traditions."

"Well, would you look at that?" Evaine chuckled under her breath, leaning against the doorway. "Derek Hale, a closet romantic," she accepted the bouquet and took a deep breath, drowning her senses in the flora.

"A girl could get used to this." She couldn't stop the bubbling feeling of unadulterated happiness coursing through her body. Her smile stretched across her face wide and pure, heart melting a little at the romantic gesture.

"Only for you, I've got a reputation to uphold." He smirked, closing the distance between them until Evaine felt the warmth radiating from his body.

"But of course," The umber-haired teenager rolled her eyes. "Can't let the guys at Beacon Hill know that their star basketball player is a softie at heart." She gave him a quick peck on the lips, deep and breathless before pulling him into the house.

* * *

The tension in the air choked Derek worse than anything the Hunters could've thrown at him as he chewed on his steak. Vivian, Evaine's mother, managed to keep the conversation flowing throughout dinner, but as the minutes went by, the young werewolf found it harder and harder to ignore the elephant in the room: Ivan Krasikeva.

After that breathtakingly short kiss, he stumbled into the house dazed and giddy, only to freeze at the sight of disassembled rifles and guns spread across the living room table. Evaine, noticing his distress, immediately apologized for her Dad's poor show of behavior, groaning "Told him to put them away."

For a split second, he had completely forgotten that Evaine was a Deputy's daughter. A Deputy who worked at the Sheriff station and had access to all kinds of guns and fun toys. Gulping, all he could do was steel his nerves and do his best to impress his girlfriend's parents.

God, the world had it out for him.

 _Just be charming and truthful as possible,_ He told himself.

With Evaine whispering encouragements and reassurances, he managed to get his head in the game and put on his best smile for the stern Deputy, who refused to greet him anything more than a stink eye.

Vivian reminded Derek a lot of his Mum — minus the whole supernatural conundrum — because one glare from her sent Ivan recoiling. Derek didn't miss the smirk on Evaine's face at the sight of her Dad bending to her Mum's will.

Looks like the Krasikeva had their own Alpha Female.

"So, any ideas what you might want to do after high school?" Ivan's firm voice snapped Derek out of his reverie.

He set his knife and fork down, wiped away any excess mess from his mouth and cleared his throat before answering.

"Well, I was actually thinking about studying architecture at Colombia University."

"Really?" Ivan asked, brows raised. "Aiming pretty high, that's the best college for architecture in the entire country." The skepticism laced in his voice did not go unnoticed.

"At least he has an idea Dad," Evaine sighed, "I still don't have a clue what I'm gonna do once I graduate from high school."

"I thought you were thinking about Julliard's?" Vivian said.

"Ms. Lee said I have a pretty good shot at the auditions, maybe even get a full scholarship, but I don't know if I can see myself playing the violin professionally." She admitted, "I prefer to play for leisure rather than for the sakes of academics. Although, I can't deny that studying music would be interesting."

Derek set his culinary down and turned to face Evaine, "So, do you have any ideas what you might do?"

"Be an English or Classics teacher? Maybe teach English as a foreign language abroad?" She paused, then her lips curled into a smirk, "Or maybe study veterinary science and take over for Deaton."

Tension melted away as laughter filled the air made by her bold statement.

Ivan shook his head, "Oh, you're thinking of conducting a _hostile takeover_ over the animal clinic?"

" _Moi_ , a hostile takeover?" Evaine gasped, peering up through her eyelashes, projecting an innocent air. "How could you say that of your own daughter?"

"We can say that because you are _our_ daughter," Vivian grinned. "We know you too well."

"Well, it wouldn't be a hostile takeover," The violinist leaned back into the chair, resting a hand on Derek's thigh, "Deaton was the one who suggested the idea."

"Oh really?" Vivian shot her daughter a grin that was full of mischief, "And this has nothing to do with the little malamute-husky currently residing in the kennels?"

"Nope." Evaine popped the 'p' as she took a sip of water. "But it wouldn't hurt to let me bring him."

"A dog is a lot of work. Huskies and Malamutes need a lot of exercises and are pack animals so they can't stand being left alone for too long—"

"Mum," Evaine interrupted, "I know how much work it'll take to look after Mish. Deaton's just about given me every single information he has on Huskies, Malamutes and mix-breeds, and he was kind enough to give Mish a full checkup for free."

Her parents hummed their acknowledgements as they let the information sink in.

"We'll think about it."

Evaine leaned back in her chair with a big smile. "That's all I ask."

The happiness, delightful and playful banter between Evaine and her parents was infectious. He couldn't stop himself from smiling to the point where his cheeks were beginning to ache because of the smile that seemed permanently stretched across his face. But, it was a good kind of ache, the kind he wished never to stop feeling for the rest of his life.

* * *

Dinner ended on a pleasant note, despite Ivan's suspicious glares and subtle hints of 'hurt-my-daughter-and-I-will-make-sure-you'll-live-to-regret-that-decision-for-the-rest-of-your-life.' With Vivian and Evaine acting as buffers between the two males, Derek lived to see another day. But then came the thought of 'what now?' What do you usually do after having dinner with your girlfriend's parents?

Thankfully, that question was answered for him before he had a chance to make himself look like an idiot.

"Why don't you show Derek around," said Vivian with a mischievous glint in her eyes; Ivan went to protest, but falter under Vivian's glare, "Your Dad and I will clear up the dishes."

Evaine narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing her parents as they communicate with their eyes. "Why, Mother dearest, you're acting odder than usual."

"Odd, _moi_?" Vivian gasped, "Why on earth would you think that?" She looked over to her scowling husband, "I'm not acting odd, am I?"

Evaine dragged Derek away before Ivan had a chance to reply, but clearly whatever he intended to say earned him a sound smack to the head.

* * *

Evaine pushed the white-oak door open with a smile, revealing a modest size room, with a trail of fairy lights hanging across the pale-green and cream walls. Her queen-sized bed faced the window that had been converted into an extra bed or sofa. A little reading nook, judging by the small bookshelf carved into the wall. But he noticed another bookshelf that took up an entire wall by itself, stuffed to the brim with leather-bound, hardback books at smelt old and weathered, with only a handful of freshly printed ones. Her violin had a shelf all to itself, cushioned by what he assumed were music scores on either side.

There were two doors within, he assumed that one led to her en-suite, but he couldn't resist taking a deep breath. God, her scent was _everywhere_. It went straight to his head, making him feel heady. Inevitably, he moaned.

Realizing what he had done, his eyes snapped wide open. Evaine gave him a quirk of her brow, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. He cleared his throat with a series of coughs, rubbing the back of his neck. "So…"

"So, this is my room," Evaine said, throwing herself back onto her bed.

"It's very much you."

She buried herself into a pillow, but the mirth in her voice was unmistakable. "Well, I should hope so, it _is_ mine."

"Shut up." Derek groaned, face in hand and sat down on the edge of her bed. God, her scent was turning him into an idiot.

He felt her weigh on his back as Evaine draped her arms over his shoulders, nuzzling into the back of his neck. He shivered as the small puffs of her breath danced across his skin.

"You, are a complete and utter sour-wolf."

"Sour-wolf? Am not." He shot back.

"I'm sorry, but you tend to brood… a lot."

"Well, I wouldn't be brooding so much if you weren't causing so much trouble."

Evaine gasped, "Trouble? Excuse me, but who was the one who stalked me for weeks after we first met? Very badly, might I add."

When he failed to provide an answer, the corner of her lips curled up into a smug-smirk. "I win."

He felt the urge to laugh — hysterically — at how at ease his girl was with his weird behavior. Anyone else would've turned into the Road Runner and ran in the other direction, never looking back. But not her. She called him out on his so-called stalking skills, has the gall to tell him to be stealthier. God, he must've been a saint in his past life to deserve such an accepting and loving girl such as her. Reaching out, he brushed aside a strand of hair that fell across her face, cradling her face in the palm of his hand as his thumb caressed the apples of her cheeks.

A comfortable silence fell over them. Derek couldn't find the words to describe the how his heart ached at the thought of losing her. He slowly maneuvered them so that he laid on his back, with Evaine snuggling into his chest with an arm around her waist.

"Can't see it."

"Can't see what?" Derek looked down his girlfriend whose eyes were fixed into the distance.

"You as an architect," she chuckled, "a civil engineer, perhaps, but an architect? I haven't seen you draw anything building or construction related."

"Well," he snorted, "you should see some of my stuff in the wood-shop. I think Mr. Geoffrey still use my birdhouse as an example."

"Oh yeah, I think I've seen it," Evaine hummed. "Yes, Mr. Geoffrey showed it to us as an example of what _not_ to do when building a birdhouse."

He gasped, "Ah, that cheek of yours…"

A smile stretched across Evaine's face that spelled playful trouble, "Mhmm, and what are you planning to do about that?"

Derek stared down at his girl in silence with a serene smile on his face, "Nothing. I love you just the way you are, my violin girl."

Evaine's breath hitched in her throat as a look of disbelief crossed her face before a surge of unadulterated happiness danced across her amber-brown eyes.

"And you're my sour wolf." He couldn't stop himself from pouting, which elicited a soft chuckle from her, "Whatever happens Derek, promise me you'd never lose that smile of yours?"

Derek frowned, "Why would I ever stop smiling with you by my side?"

Something flickered across Evaine's eyes before her gaze met his, too quick for him to recognize what it was. She stared at him imploringly through her long lashes, "Well, it's not like you can be with me every single second of my life."

"I can try."

"That's a big promise to keep, sour-wolf," Evaine tilted her head to the left. "Plus, I think if my Dad heard that, he'd want to introduce you to his personal gun collection."

"I think I can endure your Dad's ire to keep that promise, Evaine," Derek said with a straight face with an intensity that sent shivers down her shine.

Evaine leaned forward and rested her forehead against his, a breathy laugh slips from her lips, "You were practically a 'deer-in-headlights' at the sight of my Dad."

"Were not," he protested.

"Were too," she retorted, "don't you get any ideas about sneaking in through my window now, you hear me?"

Derek hummed, his brain sparking with possibilities, "Hadn't thought about that, but thanks for the idea—"

Evaine's hand rested his chest, "Don't you dare."

"Look me in the eye, and tell me that sleeping with me is a bad idea."

"Oh, really?" Cocking her head back, she gave him a mischievous smirk, "Wanna give that another try, Romeo?"

Derek felt himself flush, realizing the implication of his words, "That sounded a lot better in my head." He leaned forward and hid his face in her neck, "God, don't I feel awkward."

"What? The thought of you sleeping in my bed or the thought of us having—"

He covered her mouth, muffling her next few words, "Yes." Derek answered, leaning forward until their foreheads met.

"Well," Evaine began, "I think it is safe to say that we're not hitting any home runs anytime soon." She shook her head, "No matter how much our hormones scream for it."

Derek smile morphed into a smirk full of impishness, arching his brows in a suggestive manner, "Oh really? They're screaming for it?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, "Please, their screams are as ear piercing as a banshee's."

"That loud, huh?"

"Also, let's not forget that my parents are downstairs."

"Good point," He nodded with mock forlorn, "your Dad's probably figured out how he's gonna kill me and where to bury the body, so no one will find me."

"Ye have a little faith, Derek," Evaine chuckled, "if he does, somehow, manage to get the drop on you… I'll be very disappointed that you didn't keep your promise to me…" Her voice trailed off into a whisper with a gulp.

Derek could taste the worry rolling off from her in waves, so he pulled her back down, eliminating the space between them and wrapping his arms around her form. Resting her head on his chest, he ran his fingers through her umber-colored hair.

He wondered if she took his words seriously, because he meant them, every single word. Honestly, Derek should feel a little overwhelmed and frightened by just how easy it was to promise her, but all he could feel was how _right_ it was and a sense of completion.

Nothing else mattered, so long as Evaine was happy, safe… by his side.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I am so sorry that you waited five months for this chapter. Things got a little hectic over the summer holidays.**

 **So, I'm now in my final year and currently beginning the process of applying for my MA degree, which has been stressful trying to write up individual personal statements for each university and finding the necessary documents and whatnot. There is also my dissertation that's currently in the works too.**

 **It just suddenly hit me with how much I set myself to do, which resulted in a little meltdown so I took a break from everything. I'm mostly back now, since lectures start in two days but never think that I'll abandon this fanfic. I have big plans for Evaine and she's going to have quite a life ahead of her (take it how you will)**

 **Although, on the plus side, I was lucky enough to be chosen to watch RADA and Kenneth Branagh's Hamlet, starring Tom Hiddleston. Since I'm still under 25, the tickets were a steal and it is the highlight of the month. He is as amazing and brilliant as I'd imagined him to be. A fantastic blend between tragedy and comedic elements, proving that Hamlet's madness is perfectly carved and created for the purpose of avenging his father.**

 **I'm 800 words into the next chapter. I don't quite know when the next chapter will be posted, but definitely before the end of this year that's for sure.**

 **Thanks for sticking with me,**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter**

 **Don't forget to review and favorite/follow~**

 **Nyxie**

 **x**


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